Huntress: Trailbreaker by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Huntress-Trailbreaker-1282942636?file=1

Huntress: Trailbreaker ANIMATION

The Obsidian Embrace

Rain did not fall in the Narrows; it congealed. It wept down the limestone gargoyles like thick syrup, carrying the oily grime of the metropolis into the deep, forgotten fractures between the towering gothic architecture. Helena dropped into this concrete abyss, her reinforced boots making a soft, wet thud against the uneven cobblestones. As the Huntress, she owned the night. She was clad in deep violet and midnight black armor, her cape a razor-winged silhouette against the sickly yellow streetlamps that dared to flicker in the gloom. Yet tonight, the predator’s mantle felt dangerously heavy upon her shoulders, ill-fitting and suffocating. She was not tracking a mobster, a corrupt politician, or a masked lunatic.

She was running.

The scent caught her first—a sickeningly sweet perfume of crushed nightshade and ancient, oxidized copper. It bypassed her cowl’s advanced filtration systems, sinking straight into her limbic system and whispering to primal instincts long buried. Fear, raw and unrefined, sparked in her chest. She raised her wrist-mounted crossbow, the steel mechanism clicking with a sharp, reassuring finality. She spun, leveling the weapon at the mouth of the alleyway. She saw nothing but drifting, unnatural fog and the erratic strobe of a dying neon sign advertising a defunct casino.

"You move with the grace of a falling star, Huntress."

The voice did not echo off the brick walls. It slid directly into her mind, a rich, baritone purr that felt like heavy silk dragged across bare skin. It was impossibly close, vibrating in the hollows of her collarbones.

"But even stars must burn out when they crash to the earth," the voice continued.

Helena fired. The specialized bolt sliced through the heavy fog, embedding itself into a rusted steel dumpster with a deafening, metallic thwack. The shadows coalesced exactly where the bolt had passed, reforming into a towering, indistinct shape that seemed to actively drink the meager ambient light.

"A hostile greeting," the voice murmured, drifting to her left, then to her right, disorienting her senses. "And here I thought we were destined for a much more... intimate dance."

"I don't dance with cowards hiding in the dark," Helena said. Her voice remained steady, a practiced weapon in itself, betraying none of the glacial ice currently crawling up her spine. She stepped backward cautiously, feeling for the cold brick wall to secure her flank. "Show yourself. Let’s see exactly what kind of monster thinks he can stalk me."

"Monster is such a reductive, human term, my dear. It entirely lacks poetry."

A figure stepped into the fringe of the neon’s flickering glow. He—if it was a he—wore the guise of a gentleman from a forgotten, elegant century, draped in an immaculate, dark tailored coat. But his anatomical proportions were subtly terrifying. His limbs were slightly too long, his joints articulating with an unnatural, fluid grace, like a deep-sea predator navigating the abyss. His face was a porcelain mask of absolute perfection, lips curved in a gentle, devastatingly handsome smile. But his eyes ruined the illusion of humanity; they were voids of swirling, iridescent violet, mirroring the color of her own costume.

"I am merely an admirer of your life's work," he said, taking a slow step forward. "The way you carve your brutal justice into the rotting flesh of this wicked city... it is utterly breathtaking. You are terribly beautiful when you are furious."

"Flattery won't stop a silver-tipped armor-piercing bolt from shattering your throat," she warned, loading another quarrel with a sharp flick of her wrist. "What are you?"

"I am the shadow that catches you when you leap too far from the light," he whispered.

Suddenly, he was no longer standing at the edge of the neon glow. He was inches away. The distance between them had vanished without him taking a single step.

Helena gasped, thrusting her crossbow forward to fire point-blank, but a hand—cold as glacial ice and strong as forged iron—closed over her wrist. He didn't twist or attempt to break her bones; he merely held her, his touch sending a paradoxical wave of paralyzing cold and scorching, electric heat through her veins. He leaned in, his porcelain face hovering mere inches from hers. The scent of nightshade was overwhelming, intoxicating, threatening to drag her down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

"You spend your entire life hunting desperate beasts," he murmured, his breath brushing the exposed,
...(more at https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai).
For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)